Fire-Forged
by ButterscotchFox
Summary: Morceau Oleander, Sasha Nein, and Milla Vodello - three of the Psychonauts' most gifted agents. When sent on missions, teams of three are rare, and even then these three aren't often put together. But when they are...


" _What's taking Vodello so long!?_ "

Sasha grimaced, ducking another blast of roiling psychic energy and seeing Morry return fire from his position across the room. They were getting steadily pushed down the hallway towards the ballroom, where they'd have no cover and no escape – unless they wanted to try their luck with the cliffs. But the agent was too exhausted to fly for more than a few moments at the most, and Morry had never been skilled with it.

Their aggressors – a gang of psychic criminals called Psi-Eye, headed by the villainous Dr. Orbis – were stacked up against the doorway at the far end of the hall, and except for a few moments where they bent outward to hurl psychic aggression at the pair, he had no way of getting a clear shot.

And on top of that, the envelope he clutched to his chest contained crucial information about Psi-Eye that the Psychonauts would want to see. It was also the reason they were being shot at.

"We agreed on two hours, Commander!" Sasha shouted back, using the field codenames they had established beforehand. "Minx will require time to reach us, there was no way to know we would be discovered!"

"I had a pretty good feelin'!"

"You are _always_ anticipating discovery!"

"And that makes me ready for every ambush! Like _this one!_ "

Sasha glanced over the ornate dresser he had been hiding behind and noted that the enemy was preparing to make a push. They'd have to cede ground again, and there was only one more place where they could hold out before reaching the ballroom. He had to do something to trip them up – Morry, firing off blasts of aggression like a screaming sentry gun, couldn't be counted on to do anything else.

He quickly took stock of his surroundings. Low ceiling, no windows, solid but heavy furniture lining the hallway, and a thick red rug that ran down the length of the hallway's middle.

That would do.

"Commander, fall back!" the agent shouted, springing up from his crouched position to sprint down the hall on aching legs. A hastily-conjured psychic shield hummed in protest as it deflected a trio of hostile bolts.

"The commander does not receive orders, Thinker!" Morry barked.

"The name is _Analyst_ , and _do it!_ "

He turned on reaching the end of the hallway, feeling a bit of relief to see Morry nevertheless following his instructions. Just as the Psi-Eye agents were beginning their rush down the hall, shields deployed, Sasha put a hand to his temple, brow furrowing, and telekinetically seized the rug, giving it a vicious yank. The enemy went sprawling, and by the time they had clambered to their feet the door to the ballroom had been slammed shut.

"Pulling the rug out?" the squatter man grumbled, helping Sasha to push a cabinet in front of the door. "Really, Nein?"

He grunted from exertion, only replying, "I apologize for taking your opportunity to save the day, Morry."

Thus barricaded in with no way out, the two agents took a moment to catch their breath. It wouldn't be long now; they could already hear the angry yelling of Dr. Orbis's goons as they slammed against the door. It was fancy, but not particularly thick, and it would give way before long.

Across from them, the far wall of the luxurious-looking ballroom was taken up entirely by three enormous windows that gave a beautiful view of the ocean. Sasha scanned the room, confirming there were no other entrances, which also meant no exits as he'd feared. Sometimes he wished he could be wrong.

"Well, Nein, it's been a hell of a run." Morry said with a scowl, turning back to the door and raising his hand to the ready position. "But I'll be double damned if they take THIS soldier alive!"

A spark of warmth lit in Sasha's chest as he stepped towards the windows on the far side. A small smile crept onto his face.

"No need to be so determined, Morry."

"Eh?" The military man turned at Sasha's words, his resolute mask transforming into a look of shock. "Why, that – TAKE COVERRR!"

The two Psychonauts dove aside, sliding across the polished floor just as the door behind them gave way. Before the Psi-Eye agents had a chance to rush inside, however, a thunderous cacophony of sound split the air, and thousands of glass shards pelted the ballroom as a Psychonauts micro-jet crashed through the windows. It turned sharply, engines roaring in protest, and skidded to the now-open doorway, colliding with the enemy and hurling them back down the hall.

The entry hatch to the micro-jet hissed open. In the cockpit, Sasha could faintly see the outline of Milla Vodello, unstrapping herself from the pilot's seat and removing the helmet she'd been wearing.

She was quite the woman, Miss Vodello.

"Washington's coattails, that woman needs a promotion!" Morry cheered, leaping from the floor and careening as fast as his legs would allow towards the jet. Sasha hastily followed him, and they were met by Milla at the hatch.

"Evening, Commander. Darling." She said warmly, extending a hand to help Morry in.

"It's _Analyst._ " Morry corrected gruffly, grunting as he hefted himself up. The other two ignored him, Sasha giving Milla an appreciative smile.

"Not your usual entrance, Miss Vodello." He remarked, trying to sound casual.

"I usually have more time to prepare." Milla replied innocently, plucking the envelope from his hands.

"Indeed, it doesn't appear you even brushed your hair."

"Well, it's the helmet, you know. Safety first!"

"I'm sorry that it came to that."

"It's okay, Sasha, you can pay me back."

" _Hello!_ " Morry shouted from the back. "Less flirting, more _escaping,_ people!"

Milla laughed, securing the envelope inside the safe behind the pilot's seat as Sasha took her place at the controls. The hatch smoothly slid shut, and the jet's engines flared in response to his commands.

The sensors lit up, flashing angry red warnings at him as the hull took psi-blast fire. The agent frowned, gripping the trembling flight stick.

"Taking off will be difficult with their interference!" he said to the others. "If they damage the engines, we'll crash!"

"I can't make a strong enough shield to protect the engines, I've been using clairvoyance for twenty minutes to find you two!" Milla answered, hurrying to the co-pilot's seat and strapping herself in.

Sasha's train of thought was derailed by a guffaw from Morry.

"Shields!" he chuckled. "No soldier worth their weight in rations gets out of a bad situation by _protecting_ themselves! Take us up, Nein, and just let me at 'em."

His first instinct was to argue, as up until this point Morry had been unable to overcome or thwart the Psi-Eye agents. But something about the look in his partner's eyes convinced him that the man had a plan worth taking risks on.

Well, it wasn't like he had any alternative.

"That's the stuff!" Morry grinned as the airship began to turn. He flexed his fingers, and Sasha could hear his knuckles popping even over the roar of the engines. "Get 'em front and center, Nein!"

Milla leaned over to the door controls, pulling firmly on the lever to open the hatch once again, and the pint-sized soldier stepped up to the breach. The ballroom outside of the psi-plane rotated until the enemy agents were in view.

One of them raised a hand to his brow. "Stop right there!" he shouted. "This is your last warning!"

"Well you're _out_ of warnings!" Morry declared, fingers at his own temples.

Before the enemy could react, a brilliant light grew from between Morry's eyes. Psi-bolts like cannonballs flashed down to the ballroom floor, sending the Psi-Eye agents scrambling for cover. Morry started to laugh.

Seeing the danger clearing, Sasha pulled again on the controls, directing the plane towards the shattered windows. The few return shots that came towards Morry were deflected by Milla, who had unstrapped herself to stand beside him at the hatch.

Again and again, they were struck by his storm of aggression, hurled backwards or forced to cower under their psychic shields.

He wasn't much for tactics, but Sasha didn't know a single agent who could match Morceau Oleander for firepower.

By the time Morry collapsed to the floor, spent, they were safely out of range and gaining speed away from Dr. Orbis's fortress. Milla closed the hatch, bending over Morry with a smile. "Morry, if you had so much energy left then you should have used it sooner!" she said sternly, though her tone was gentle.

The stout man laughed breathlessly. "Sure, and risk running empty if more showed up before you did!" he answered. "Nein isn't the only one who can think ahead!"

"I suppose not." Sasha agreed, setting the psi-jet to autopilot and turning to face them. "It was an impressive display, Morry. No doubt it will be the highlight of this month's issue."

"Ah, hell, then we gotta think of a name for it." He grumbled. "The 'lots of shots'? The 'super finishing move'? Hey, help me out, you two!"

"I'm sure that the agents in Merchandising will think of something suitable."

"As if! Special attacks are like medals, Nein, you gotta show them off!"

"Come now, Morry," Milla said softly, helping him to his feet so he could make his way to one of the copilot seats. "The mission was a success, thanks to you two! I'm sure your bravery will be noted."

He grunted in response, sitting behind Sasha. Milla took a seat to the Austrian agent's left, reaching into her bag which had been stashed under the control board. When she pulled her hand back out, her fingers were wrapped around the neck of a bottle of wine.

"Ah, yes, the after-mission party!" Morry remarked excitedly, rubbing his hands together.

"A party normally reserved for after we have landed." Their pilot commented with a cocked eyebrow, though his tone didn't hold any objections.

"Just a glass, darling, no need to overdo it." The Mental Minx answered, fishing a trio of decorative plastic cups out of the bag. "Though I'm sure you could bring us in safely, anyway."

"I'll die an accountant before Sasha Nein is too drunk to remember landing procedures." Morry agreed.

Wordlessly, Sasha accepted his cup, and when Milla had passed one to Morry the three of them gently clinked the drinks together.

"Cheers."

A moment of silence followed as they sipped the wine, nothing but the steady hum of the plane between them. Finally feeling his muscles un-tense, Sasha allowed himself to relax in the seat. Milla gave him a winning smile.

"Hey," Morry said after the pause, "you'll tell 'em about the 'psibolt hurricane,' right?"

"Of course, Morry."

"Good."

The Psychonauts didn't often put the three of them together on missions.

But those were always their favorite missions.


End file.
